A Dangerous Game
by EliadetheAkuma
Summary: Love is a dangerous game. It can be very blissful and happy, should you play it right. Everyone has secrets. With love, true love, there's isn't any secrets, but everyone is too afraid to disclose those secrets to a person, a single person in the entire world. After all, your secrets are your secrets and sometimes, they need to stay that way…but don't. Sherlock/OC
1. You Will Find Safety

Love is a dangerous game. It can be very blissful and happy, should you play it right. But sometimes, you are dealt a nasty hand and the game is played with secrets, broken trust and broken promises. Everyone has secrets, and that's the problem with love. With love, true love, there's isn't any secrets, but everyone is too afraid to disclose those secrets to a person, a single person in the entire world. After all, your secrets are your _secrets_ and sometimes, they need to stay that way…but don't.

"Oh my _**god**_!" Phoenix groaned as she awoke to the sound of a violin playing in the living room. She sighed and threw off the blankets from her body, shivering only slightly at the cold air that filled Sherlock's room. She guessed she had taken it over last night so Sherlock had slept in the living room on the couch where she normally slept. She slipped out of the bed, putting her feet into bright pink slippers and exiting the room, walking into the kitchen and calling out to Sherlock.

"Sherlock." She whined, adjusting her bunny pajamas on her shoulders. "Do you have to compose sad songs at eight o' clock in the morning?"

"For your information, yes. We have a murder and I need to think…it helps me think, you know. Besides, it's not eight o'clock in the morning."

"What?!" She rushed over to the stove, eyes widening at the time. "ELEVEN THIRTY?! SHERLOCK, I HAD WORK THIS MORNING AT NINE! WHY DIDN'T YOU WAKE ME UP?!"

"You seemed to be sleeping peacefully, so I left you be." Sherlock responded as she rushed around the flat. "You haven't been sleeping lately. Your insomnia, I presume."

She sighed as she adjusted the blue glasses on her face, looking down.

"You refuse to take medication for it, and yet, you still complain about not getting sleep."

"I'm aware, Sherlock, but that's how normal people are…wait…did I just say I was normal? No way. I'm as far from normal as normal gets! Well, I have to go to work, Sherlock, I will be back later tonight." She responded, walking over to the door. He nodded, not even looking at her. She opened the door and quickly brushed past the person who was on the other side, quickly apologizing and rushing down the stairs in a hurry.

"Uh…who was that, Sherlock?" John asked, stepping inside and closing the door. Sherlock paused in his composition.

"Oh, just someone I know. She occasionally crashes here, but doesn't actually live here." He responded, before continuing to compose.

"Who was she though?"

"Her name is Phoenix Valentina."

"Oh…interesting name." John responded.

"Yes, now what have you found out about the victims?"

* * *

Phoenix finished entering the required HTML code into the website and submitted it, successfully fixing the photo display issue. She closed the window and clicked the start button in the corner before clicking 'shut down'. She sighed deeply and reclined in her chair, her back aching. The monitors before her began to shut down, one by one until the final one shut off.

"Sometimes, I hate being the tech girl." She announced softly, biting her red lip.

She didn't really have a good-paying job, she got a wage of about £5.93 an hour and she only worked part-time, maintaining the company's website, repairing the computers when they had problems with them and even engineering the programs used by the other employees. She had asked for a raise before, but she had been shot down with a warning never to ask for one again. She didn't like that she got paid so little for so much work but she was lucky she had even gotten hired by this company, let alone being paid as much as she was.

The money she got paid only got her food, which was why she slept at Sherlock's place or another friend's house. She was currently working on saving for an apartment or flat, but it was hard, with needing to keep gas in her car and food in her stomach.

Sherlock definitely made it easier on her, she had to admit. He always offered to lend her money if she needed it, a cigarette if she ran out, and a place to stay when she needed it and food if she ever needed some. Sherlock wasn't generally kind, that was for sure, but he had his own ways of showing care…especially for her.

She breathed heavily, standing from the uncomfortable desk chair and pushed it in with her hip, grabbing her bright blue leather purse and slinging it over her shoulder as she left the dark room, stiffening as she was hit by the light of the big office. She placed her yellow leather heels one after the other, her braid bouncing against her back as she hurried to the opposite end of the office, the pink and blue bright underneath the lights. Upon reaching the other end of the office, she hit the light switch and watched as all the lights above her flipped off before turning and opening the glass doors.

She sighed as the cold wind hit her face, blowing the stray pink and blue hairs from her face. She walked down the stone steps, placing her left and then her right as she walked down them. She turned to the left of the big corporate building, heading towards Sherlock's flat. She paused, feeling a tingling sensation and an overwhelming sense of dread. She turned around and narrowed her eyes at an overly inconspicuous man leaning against one of the statues out front of the building, a newspaper in front of his face and a black fedora tipped down over his face.

She adjusted her blue trench coat and swallowed, turning back towards the way to Sherlock's flat. She stood there for a few minutes, checking behind her to make sure the man hadn't moved. Making up her mind about what to do, she started in the direction she had previously designated and walked as though she hadn't noticed anything. She glanced behind her without turning her head and noticed the man walking behind her, keeping back far enough to avoid suspicion but close enough to keep her in sight.

She frowned and hurried towards the upcoming alleyway, continuing to glance behind her. She made the sharp turn when she came to the alleyway, but was almost immediately knocked back a bit as she bumped into someone.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention." She looked up and bit her lip at what greeted her. Four tall men, scruffy and dangerous-looking, stood in her way. She frowned and took a step back, glancing down the way. She saw the man coming, running now.

"Now you best watch yourself, woman! Bumping into men like us!" The man she bumped into went to grasp her arm but she quickly shoved past him, running despite the fact she was in heels.

"I will watch myself, sir, thank you for the advice!" She yelled back, making another sharp turn to the left, glancing behind her only once. She hurried down the street, knowing she wasn't far from Sherlock's flat. If she had anything to do with it, they weren't going to find Sherlock.

She rushed down another alleyway, then took a turn to the right, pausing to look down the alleyway. The man wasn't there, nor was he on the street connected to the alleyway on the other end. She turned back to the building before her and walked to the alleyway on the right side of it, hurrying down it and then turning left, finding herself in front of Sherlock's building. She sighed deeply and walked up, fishing her set of keys out of her coat and opening the first door. She went up the stairs, waving to Mrs. Hudson on the way.

She reached Sherlock's door and put her keys into the door, turning it to the right and unlocking it. She pushed open the door, removed her keys and placed them back in her pocket. She closed the door, and leant against it, resting her hands on the wood. She let herself take deep breaths, trying to soothe the burning in her lungs and throat.

She panted and wiped the sweat from her face, heart and mind racing. She turned toward the coat rack behind the door and hung her blue coat up and then put her purse on the floor beside the rack. She sighed and walked over to Sherlock's leather three-seat couch, plopping down onto the middle cushion and heaving a breath. She scratched the back of her head, trying to ignore the headache that was forming.

She leant down and removed the heels, setting them underneath the coffee table. She stretched before standing, quickly grabbing her small purple duffel bag from the opposite end of the couch. She placed it on the left cushion, opening it and removing her silky blue pajamas. She checked for Sherlock, before removing her shirt and beginning to change. She stuffed her clothes into the bag and then returned the bag to the position it had been in.

She grabbed the blanket and pillow left in the chair by the couch for her and placed the pillow on the arm, then curled up with the blanket. She closed her eyes and began to drift to sleep, not even bothering to remove her make-up or hair clips. She'd get them in the morning. She didn't have work tomorrow, after all.

* * *

Seriously?!

Phoenix popped open her left eye, glaring at the curly black-haired man who stood across the room, playing a violin while staring out the window. He had a music stand to his right, holding papers with his composition on them. She glared at his back, hoping he would feel the glare and stop playing...but he continued playing. She gave a deep breath and rolled over, hoping to get used to the sound and drift back to sleep.

"My apologies for waking you, but you came in awfully late last night and didn't lock the door."

Her eyes widened and she sat up.

"Oh my god! Really? I'm so, so sorry, Sher-"

"It's fine. I heard you come in and expecting you to forget, like you usually do," She frowned at that part, again glaring at his back. "I got up and locked the door."

"Oh." She hid the irritation. "Thanks."

She laid back down, this time on her back and stared up at the ceiling.

"A man came looking for you this morning."

Her eyes widened and her heart instantly started racing. She felt her body tremble and then shudder, goose bumps blossoming across her unexposed and exposed skin. She straightened her pink lips into a firm line, bit her lip and considered what to say.

"And?" She asked calmly. If there was a hint of fear in her voice, Sherlock didn't seem to notice and even if he did, he didn't ask about it.

"I told him that I didn't know who you were or where you were and to never come by again, unless he wanted the police after him."

She scoffed.

"You are the police, Sherlock." She muttered under her breath.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing." She responded in a sing-song voice.

"I heard you, Phoenix, but I should point out I am _not_ the police _themselves_. I am only a high-functioning sociopath who is also a consulting detective. _I am not the police_."

She rolled onto her side, refusing to face him.

"And whatever trouble you're in, I can guarantee that you will find safety in this flat."

"Thanks." She whispered.

She was answered by the resumed sound of his violin and the scribble of his pen on paper, which seemed to cry 'You're welcome'.


	2. Danger, Part l

She couldn't really remember when she and Sherlock had met. Call her rude, but her memory thoroughly sucked. She could remember only a few details, such as his note of her eccentric clothing, but not the entire meeting. Sherlock's dark, mysterious façade had interested her to the point that she began to follow him around, always running into him.

At first, he had been bothered by it, assuming she had encountered Mycroft and become his spy. But she soon convinced him otherwise, without speaking a word. Sherlock never said how she had convinced him that she wasn't, but he had simply stated it was her behavior and her personality. When she asked how her personality hinted at such a thing, he responded that Mycroft would never have hired someone so eccentric to spy on him (she glared at him when he said that).

The gray smoke clouded the air as she blew it out of her mouth, letting her hand fall to rest on her leg, the cigarette between her fingers and off to the side. She used her thumb to ash it, before taking another deep puff and then releasing it. She stared up at the night sky, silently pondering the 'wonders of the universe'.

"Insomnia again, eh?"

She turned to Sherlock, who stood behind her before turning back to the stars above her. He drew closer and sat down beside her, taking out his own cigarette and lighting it.

"It gets to me a lot, 'y know, me and my mind always over-thinking stuff." She chuckled and took another puff before blowing it out. "I don't usually mind it, but work has got me working like a hamster on a wheel."

Sherlock scoffed.

"You barely get days off and when you do have days off, they're usually spent freaking out over whether or not your amount of gas will get you to the gas station."

She sighed and laughed.

"Good point."

He smiled a little. "I tend to make those kinds of points."

She smiled back and put her cigarette out, put it down on the ground and crushed the cherry with her slipper.

"Good night, Sherlock." She whispered as she stood and turned to go back inside the flat.

"Night, Phoenix."

He listened as the door closed behind him and quickly finished his cigarette before going back inside as well. He entered the flat, finding the book she had been reading 'The Name Book' lying open with the page bookmarked. He walked over to it and smirked to himself, reading aloud.

"Phoenix… as a girl's name, is of Greek origin, and the meaning of Phoenix is "dark red". The mythical bird known as the phoenix is a symbol of immortality. After living for centuries, it dies, then is resurrected from its own ashes." He read, making him chuckle.

"Oh, Phoenix, you intelligent girl."

He rolled his eyes and turned to the leather couch against the far wall. He strode over to it, adjusted his gray sweatshirt and pinstripe housecoat, and lay down on it, feeling himself gradually begin to drift off to sleep.

* * *

"Oi, Sherlock, get up."

Sherlock grumbled annoyed curses as he slowly opened his eyes, but only saw darkness. He removed his arm from his eyes and scrunched up his face at the brightness that hit him from the window. Fingers snapped in front of his face and he immediately directed his attention to the owner of said hands.

It was Phoenix who sat beside him, on the coffee table. Her purple and pink hair was wavy from being removed from its braid, her brown eyes were soft and gentle, and she was dressed in her blue bunny pajamas pants, which had a hood with little bunny ears on it (which was currently over the top of her head). Her face was entirely clear of any make-up, a rare sight, and he noticed that her skin only had a few blemishes on it.

It shocked him for a few seconds. He had never seen her like that before. She always had her make-up on, even when she went to bed, but it seemed this morning, she had chosen not to. His blue eyes went to the brown tray which sat in her lap. A glass of milk, toast, scrambled eggs, and strips of bacon awaited him. He wrinkled his face in surprise.

"What's this?" He asked, glancing up at her face and then back to the tray.

"Breakfast." She grinned. "I made it for you since I don't have work today."

"Oh." His face returned to one of surprise. "Um…thank you?"

"I just wanted to thank you for your uh letting me vent last night, so…yeah…" She looked away from him, biting her lip (her nervous tick).

He smirked.

"Well if I get breakfast every time I let you, feel free!"

"No way, Sherlock!"

* * *

Phoenix looked up through the dashboard, sighing deeply at the man who leaned against the statue with a newspaper in front of his face and a fedora on his head. He screamed trouble and danger but she knew she had to do this. She sighed deeply and exited the car, carrying her blue leather purse with her. She approached the man as calmly as she could.

"Take me to h-him. N-now." She felt ashamed at the stutter in her voice but nonetheless, put on a strong face and glared at the man, hoping he'd be intimidated enough to do as she commanded. The man lowered the newspaper before glaring back in response, obviously not intimidated by her, but nodded and motioned for her to follow him with his head.

She swallowed thickly as he began walking, leaving her standing there for a few seconds, and then hurrying after him. He raised a hand and called for a cab, making her eyes narrow and dart around, wondering exactly where he was.

She watched as a cab pulled up and the man opened the door, and extended a hand, instructing her to get in first. She did as she was bade, sitting behind the driver and shifting anxiously, unknowing of what her fate would be.

They seemed to drive forever, down alleyways and over bridges. She lost track of where she was going quickly, going back to when she had been at Sherlock's flat.

_Sherlock,_

_Don't come looking for me. I know that you'll try and deduct where I am but don't, don't even try. Don't even take a step out of your apartment, or go to my work. I know you'll want to find me, but you can't. If you do, you'll get hurt left and right and I don't want that and neither does Cornwall. I know I have burned many bridges with you, but I hope those bridges will become like rivers, flowing somewhere warm. But for now, this is goodbye, my Sherlock of Baker Street._

_Sincerely,_

_Phoenix Valentina_

She blinked her eyes as they arrived at their destination, a seemingly abandoned warehouse. She watched as the man paid the cab fare, before helping her out of the cab. She followed him into the warehouse, swallowing thickly as absolute fear and dread settled in her stomach. She knew what was coming, oh god she knew, but she refused to back out now (she technically couldn't) and kept walking, waiting for the man to reveal himself.

She stopped in the middle of the warehouse, standing underneath the light there.

"Where is he?" She asked, looking around the upper levels but seeing no one. She turned half-way toward the man. "Where-?"

She was cut off as the butt of a gun suddenly hit her right across the face. She hit the floor, trembling and gently touching the skin that had been split open by the strike. She didn't have time to recover as the man delivered a harsh kick to her ribcage and she cried out as she heard a loud crack. She grasped at her ribs, beginning to sob as the man continued his assault.

She cried out as he suddenly kicked her in the face, yelling something about being tired of her "mewling". She found herself on her back, blood-soaked hands slightly hung in the air, eyes half-closed and face beginning to swell. She coughed loudly and tried to call out, but stopped when another strike hit her in the face, causing her to roll onto her right side.

She clung to her face, which bled like a cherry. She touched her nose, where the cartilage seemed to have been broken by his strike and touched the bleeding gash on her cheek.

"I'm sure you thought you were clever, hacking into _his_ systems with his own pass but you're wrong. We used your special software programs to track you down. And, he wants you gone for good!"

She rolled onto her back, feeling weak and aching all the way to her bones. She lay there, vision blurring in and out as the man pulled out some sort of object and advanced on her. As he drew closer, she put her hands up as a way of defense but cried out when she felt something enter her abdomen. She grabbed his arms, eyes wide with pain and shock, but he only urged the blade deeper into her.

"AAAH! SHERLOCK!"


	3. Letters of Blue

Sherlock narrowed his blue eyes at the note that sat on the coffee table before him, a single solitary item on the cleared space. He scrutinized it carefully, his mind running like hot molasses during July. He closely observed the handwriting, verifying it was hers. He limited his focus to the words in the note that called out to him: _Sherlock, apartment, work, left, right, Cornwall_…_bridges, rivers, somewhere warm, Baker Street_, _Phoenix Valentina_.

"Hm…It's a flat, not an apartment." He corrected aloud, leaning into the couch and relaxing his eyes. He looked up at the ceiling, silently thinking. Phoenix wouldn't just go somewhere possibly dangerous, leave a note and expect him _not_ to follow her. She should have known full well that he'd follow her, whether or not she left a note. Her bag was still on the end of the couch and her dirty clothes were sitting in the washer. Her pillow and blanket were neatly folded, though, atop the arm of the couch to the right of him. He looked to this pile and also scrutinized it.

"You're a fool, Phoenix." He announced, sighing and leaning back against the couch.

That's when his brain finished working.

"We don't know anyone named Cornwall!" Sherlock yelled, sitting up suddenly. He looked to the note and quickly stood, scrambling for a piece of paper and a pen. Sitting back down in a hurry, he began scribbling on the sheet of paper.

"Left, right, Cornwall, bridges, rivers, warmth…" He whispered as he wrote each important word down.

Then, he threw his coat on, tightened his scarf, and took off out the door, barely managing to close the door behind him. He ran down the steps, not even uttering a goodbye to Mrs. Hudson and stepped out onto the sidewalk of Baker Street. He rushed up to a parked cab, jumped inside, startling the driver eating lunch.

"Excuse me, sir! I am not on duty!"

"Take me to Angelo Corporations, now! I'll pay you extra! Just go, now!" Sherlock yelled at the man, who practically threw his lunch to the passenger floor, flipped his light on and took off into traffic. Sherlock studied the streets, watching for any signs of the female he was looking for. He grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and quickly pulled up a new text.

'_Danger. Send help to Phoenix's location. Death.'_

He hit send instantly and looked up, seeing they had arrived at Angelo Corporations.

"Okay, now go left!"

"But-"

"I said I'll pay extra!"

The driver turned left and Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the upcoming street.

"Now right!"

The driver flipped right quickly, almost hitting a passing car but managing not to. He continued driving down the street, glancing back at Sherlock occasionally.

"You looking for someone, sir?" He asked curiously, going underneath a bridge.

"Yes. What's it to you?"

"Nothing…It's just that a woman left something for someone and I am trying to figure out who that-"

"What woman?" Sherlock pulled out a photo from his pocket and pressed it against the glass separating the front and back seat. "This woman?"

The driver glanced back when he was able.

"Yes, that's her."

"What did she leave?!" Sherlock's words were hurried, almost slurred. The driver slowed down a bit and leaned over to the glove box, removing a light blue envelope.

'_Seems enough like her.'_ Sherlock thought, silently noting the color.

The driver passed the letter through the cracked open side of the glass and Sherlock checked both sides of the envelope before opening it messily. He pulled out the pink paper on the inside, again noting the color and the handwriting.

_Sherlock,_

_If you're reading this, you've figured out my note and are in the cab, driving to the Angelo Corporations warehouse located on the other side of town. I'm really sorry for leaving with only that note but I didn't and don't have a lot of time. Listen to me, Sherlock, I want you to know how much I love you. Yes, you know what is going to happen now. Don't you? That fast and super smart mind of yours…I have been afraid of you rejecting me but now there's nothing to worry about since I am going to die anyway. _

_You know this is me, Phoenix Valentina. You are reading my handwriting and you recognize how I put hearts over my I's and cross my t's. There is no mistaking it, Sherlock. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I came into your life, stayed a while and then left, hurting you in the process. I'm so, so sorry for doing that to you, but I believe I came into your life for a reason. After all that's the way life is. _

_Inside this letter is the pass-code to my computer, containing all the information you need to arrest and convict Michael Angelo, head of Angelo corporations and well, my father. He is responsible for the murder of my mother, siblings and…inside the envelope is a USB key with a video file…of my testimony. Make sure it's used in court and please put him away. _

_For my final wish, Sherlock, please find a woman. Someone you can love and who can love you back. I know that love is a hard thing for you but it's also a hard thing for me. __Love is a dangerous game. It can be very blissful and happy, should you play it right. But sometimes, you are dealt a nasty hand and the game is played with secrets, broken trust and broken promises. Everyone has secrets, and that's the problem with love. With love, true love, there's isn't any secrets, but everyone is too afraid to disclose those secrets to a person, a single person in the entire world. After all, your secrets are your __secrets __and sometimes, they need to stay that way…but don't. These are my secrets, Sherlock, please take care of them._

_Phoenix_


	4. Danger, Part ll

She could feel the weight of the world, or so it seemed. The pressure on her face from the man's foot had seized but somehow, it felt as though more weight pressed on her chest and face. She couldn't see clearly, making her delirious to where she was.

"S-sherlock…" She managed to utter. "H-h…Sherlock…"

He would be there any minute and she hoped she'd be dead by then. It would absolutely shatter her heart if he had to watch her die slowly, enveloped in his arms and trying to save her. She didn't want to have to say anything else to him; the letter was enough, the letter was her goodbye. She couldn't stand it if she had to say something more to him…the letter was hard enough, especially with trying not to ramble and make it ten pages long.

She heard something, like doors opening, and sighed deeply, bracing herself for Sherlock. Instead, she heard police cries and yelling, which caught her off-guard. She tried to open her eyes, but failed desperately. She tried to yell too, but that fell. The man had shut the light off, so she wouldn't be found for a while. She had hoped they had flashlights, as she struggled to move, trembling from pain.

"S-Sherlock…"

She was sure she was dying; she knew she was, but all her thoughts were on that dark-haired, scarf and trench coat wearing man that she had house-sharing with for so long…and the one she had fallen so crazily in love with. Sherlock was a good, intelligent man and everything about him made her smile. How easily he was able to make deductions about people, how he started going on and on about subjects that interested him, even how he composed sad music at very early times in the morning, because, well, "it helps him think". He was just so interesting and downright amazing to her and even a thousand beautiful adjectives couldn't define how much she loved him.

"Phoenix Valentina!" An unfamiliar voice called out to her, making her eyes flutter.

"Oh my god, Phoenix." John's voice made her try to open her eyes again, but she failed. She felt his hands on her shoulders, then her stomach, where the most blood poured and her fingers clung to.

"Phoenix, move your hands. Let me see. The paramedics are coming. Please hang on."

Phoenix slowly moved her hands, letting them begin to wave around in the black.

"S-Sherlock…where's Sherlock? John, where's Sherlock?" She choked out, coughing at the dirt-filled air.

John didn't respond, but she felt his hands on her stomach. She gasped a bit when she felt her hands come across familiar hands and she sighed deeply as those hands wrapped around hers and she relaxed.

"Sherlock…" She murmured, smiling to herself despite the situation.

He didn't answer and she couldn't see him.

"Did you get my letter?" She asked, chuckling.

He didn't chuckle.

"Yes I did, Phoenix Valentina."

"Why did you just use my full name? Am I in trouble?" She questioned, smiling wider.

He chuckled that time, obviously smiling a bit.

"Yes, yes you are." She felt one of his hands touch her face. "My little mystery…you, Phoenix Valentina, the unsolvable, always changing mystery that Sherlock Holmes can't solve!"

She laughed, tears gathering in her eyes and a blurry vision appearing before her eyes but she immediately shut her eyes again as bright lights greeted her.

"Thanks, Sherlock." She moved her head so if her eyes were open, she'd be looking at him. "Thanks so much, Sherlock."

"For what?" He asked, his voice obviously cracking…he was on the brink of tears.

"**For being yo****u**."

Those three words made his eyes widen and he was pushed back by the paramedics. He watched as they slid a clear oxygen mask over her smiling face as she began to slip away, her hand dropping to her side, but that smile remaining on her beautiful face. John moved to Sherlock's side, having been pushed back as well, standing by him as they moved her to a gurney on the count of three before rushing her out of the building and into the ambulance.

Slowly, Sherlock followed, entirely non-responsive to the detectives, police and doctors/paramedics he passed on the way out. Before they could drive away, Sherlock jumped into the ambulance and forced the paramedics to let him ride with her. He grasped her hand within his again, stroking the glossy blue ring she wore on her index finger.

"I love you, Phoenix Valentina." He murmured, not even loud enough for anyone to hear.

* * *

"U...g...h." Phoenix's eyes slowly came open, blinking a few times to adjust to the newfound light. Once her eyes adjusted, she realized the light wasn't even that bright and feeling a presence within the room, she looked to the window, where a figure stood.

"Sherlock." She croaked, calling out to him.

He turned around and strode over to the bed, gently taking her hand and taking it in his hands before sitting down.

"Shh." He whispered. "Save your strength."

He looked like he had been through hell. There were bags underneath his beautiful green eyes, his face was awfully sunken in, his black hair was ruffled to the point of looking like it had never ever been brushed by anything, and his clothes were disheveled. His coat was slung over the back of the chair beside her bed and his blazer was open, his white shirt underneath wrinkled and untucked from his black pants.

"Sherlock," She searched his eyes, scrutinizing them. "Where's your scarf?"

He smiled and she looked down, seeing the blue scarf around her neck.

"Don't object, just leave it. Your neck got cold."

She smirked. "How would you know? Were you kissing it?" She teased.

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"What?!"

He smirked back at her, his green eyes searching hers for answers.

She slowly moved her hand up and gently grasped his shoulder, tugging him down to her. She passionately kissed his lips, closing her eyes before their lips had even touched. Sherlock permitted the kiss, even returning it with full passion, placing his hand on her neck.

"Mhm. I've always wanted to do that."


End file.
